Page 4 of Knocked up by the Mafia

She shifts in the chair and nods. “Okay, if it’s something I can answer, I will.”

“You’re Bratva royalty. Why are you getting your hands dirty killing Sicilian brats that suck at their father's tits?” The question is blunt, and she giggles.

“Oh, and he was such a baby. I can’t tell you why I killed the brat. But I can tell you why I do it. See, I am Bratva Royalty, but with no clear line to the throne. Honestly, I wouldn’t want it, but I am loyal to my family and want to help them succeed. So I trained and studied and did what I could to become an asset to the family. One that could actually help.” She turns slightly, stretching her back, I assume.

I grab a chair and put it in front of her. “So you became this innocent-looking killer. How come I’ve never heard of you?”

“Because I don’t work with anyone, and I don’t leave witnesses. Never mind that if someone did happen to see me, they wouldn’t suspect me because I’m just a woman.” She smirks at me. “Did you not think the same thing last night?”

“You were more than a woman last night,” I comment. I can feel a fire burning deep inside me. “So you’re the Pakhan’s cousin?”

“Yes, first cousin. Our mothers are sisters. My mother had two children, Evgenii and myself. Ivan’s mother only had Ivan and raised a traitorous little bastard of a cousin who betrayed us.”

“I heard about that.” I sit back, cross one leg over the other and cross my arms. “What made you go out last night? You risked exposing yourself, which landed up happening, and you even trusted going home with a stranger. I would think you’d be more careful than that.”

“You were charming, but also, it was arrogance on my side. I thought I would be safe by name association alone. My cousin and his partner run the two most dangerous families around. You, well, you’re a good actor. You didn’t come across as dangerous at all. I was cocky, and it bit me in the ass.”

I’m tempted to tell her it had nothing to do with me. The more she talks, the more I feel like I want to save her, not kill her. However, making that sort of decision would need a good plan, something foolproof. People fear me, and I would need to use that to my advantage. I’ve never considered something like this before, but something about her draws me to her and makes me want to keep her alive, at least for now. I need to know everything about her.

Chapter 3 - Natalia

Jesus, take the wheel. I am absolutely horrified that I slept with The Shadow of all people. Worst of all, I fucking enjoyed it. Watching him sitting in front of me so calmly, I know my fate is sealed. He never changes his mind. No one ever survives.

I’ve heard thousands of rumors about him and the hits he has carried out. He has no side, no preference. He takes the money he wants and does the hits he chooses. I don’t know anything about his past, where he comes from, or who he really is.

So he’s Irish, there’s that. That thick Irish accent stirs a fire between my legs. He is also very handsome, which doesn’t hurt. I am not lying when I say I was arrogant the night before. I had been. I’d taken him for a soft, ordinary tourist, and I’d been courting my own death the entire time.

The questions continue. What are my parents like? I vaguely answer that one. My parents are like all parents; they loved and raised us. The only difference is they bred into us a sense of deadly loyalty to everything Volkov.

Where have I been hiding? Now, I wouldn’t want to tell you that. A girl has to keep some secrets, doesn’t she?

On and on it goes, and I try to be charming and coy, answering him with dazzling smiles. I comment on his good looks and his charming personality. I tell him how it throws a person off from thinking he could be dangerous.

“So you think I’m handsome?” he asks with a chuckle.

“And great in bed….” I venture.

He bursts out laughing and shakes his head. He lets out a deep sigh and stands up. “You’re not going to convince me to spare you. That’s not how this works.”

My smile remains. I won’t show weakness, not even in my final moments. I knew it would end eventually. It was just a case of when. I look into his eyes, up at the man who is the last person I will see. He turns and walks toward the door, leaving me in the cold warehouse. I thought he had brought his weapons with him; maybe he would adhere to our deal, get a gun, and make it quick.

He shuts the door behind him, and I lower my head. I’m tired and sore, and my new boots are ruined. My family will probably start looking for me in a few hours. Thankfully my parents are still in Europe, so they won’t be the ones to find my body. That’s a mercy, at least. I don’t think they’d handle it well. They’ve gotten soft in their old age.

Aside from the hum of the lights and in the distance cars traveling, the warehouse is silent. Fitting for my end, the end I gave everyone: no one around to know, no witnesses, no loose ends.

Time ticks by slowly, and it starts to feel agonizing. I’m getting impatient. Jesus, just kill me already. Waiting, knowing my death is inevitable, is worse than worrying about being tortured.

I would guess about twenty minutes or maybe half an hour passes by. My body aches from being tied to the chair, the sex, and the slight hangover. Then I hear noise outside, several voices. It must be his men talking. I pick out three or four different voices and wonder what he will do. Is he sending them away? Is he going to make them torture me? As if I haven’t been tortured before, I won’t give them any…

My thoughts are interrupted by a series of gunshots. They echo through the warehouse and then complete silence again, except for the hum of the light.

The door swings open, and Daniel walks in. He’s wiping blood off his face with a handkerchief and has a smoking gun in his hands.

“Sorry about that. I don’t like leaving witnesses. This is also the first time I will be doing this, and I’d prefer to know that only the two of us are in on this.” He sits back down in front of me.

“In on this? A quick death?” I raise an eyebrow. “Why? Was torture specifically required?”

“To answer your last question, yes, the Dons wanted me to make you suffer, and I’ve decided not to.” He tilts his head to the side. “But more than that, there’s something about you that I can’t shake. I don’t think it’s respect, although I do respect you. No, I need more time to think, but I can’t let you go. It puts me in a bad light, and other hit men will come after you. So you can choose to either live under my protection or die by my hand, and I need to know now.”

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